


Fever.

by Lost_In_Time_x



Series: Waking Dreams [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Crying, Established Relationship, Fever Dreams, Hallucinations, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Johnlock Fluff, M/M, My First Fanfic, Nightmares, No Character Death, Post-Reichenbach, Sickfic, Threat of serious harm.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-05 00:17:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3097904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lost_In_Time_x/pseuds/Lost_In_Time_x
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is sick with a raging fever and John tends to him. However when John drifts off by his bedside, Sherlock is plagued by a horrific fever dream and he bolts in a brief moment of lucidity. Sherlock is in a terrible state and a dangerous situation. Will John have to watch history repeat itself?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Case.

**Author's Note:**

> I, in no way shape or form own ‘Sherlock’ it’s characters or its references, they belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle along with Mark Gatiss and Stephen Moffat. This is my first fanfic and I don’t know how it’s going to be received but I would really appreciate feedback as I’ve been reading fanfiction for a few years and finally decided to ‘join the party’ as it were. ;) Enjoy!

Sherlock was sick. This was a fact. A fact that said consulting detective was trying his level best to disprove not only to himself but to John. The ex-Army doctor was leaning against the door frame of the room which housed their first worthwhile case in a month. With his arms crossed he tried to level the detective with his best ‘In this instance you are the idiot’ glare but it was being ignored.

“It’s a 9, John!” His boyfriend had shouted excitedly that morning as he bounded down the stairs of 221b in search of a cab, completely forgetting his Belstaff and scarf in his haste. Sherlock had been battling a fever for the best part of a week when Lestrade had texted him asking for his unique eye on a murder. In any other circumstances John would be thrilled to have something occupying his detective’s mind to stave of the boredom that pains them both daily. Today though, he was at his wits end with Sherlock. John was genuinely surprised that the man was still standing; not that he had any information regarding this fever. Sherlock had kept himself secluded while under his fugue; not letting John anywhere near him. During the start of their relationship six months ago, John had been pleasantly surprised that Sherlock was very free with his affection. They showered each other with little touches throughout the day and enjoyed cuddles on the couch whenever he could trap John with his lithe figure. Therefore Sherlock’s self imposed exile from John was starting to wear the doctors patience thin.

Across the room, hunched over the body, Sherlock was struggling. His eyes kept fading in and out of focus and it took all of his strength not to collapse over the corpse. While the allure of an exciting case fuelled his determination at first, he now wished he’d stayed at home on the couch with John. But… no, not with John, he couldn’t risk letting John see him under the effects of the fever which was gradually building. While he loved John more than words could describe, he still kept John in the dark regarding certain aspects of his past; especially when he was sick. Mycroft called them ‘episodes’; periods of Sherlocks youth when he would be plagued with fever fuelled nightmares and vivid hallucinations. Sherlock did not care for the term nor did he care what anyone thought, well… anyone but John. 

Sherlock had had enough, he heaved himself up, proud that he could maintain his cool composure of indifference, however one glance at John proved that he wasn’t fooled if the concern that flitted over his face was any indication. He stalked over to Lestrade who was flanked by Donovan.  The Sergeant caught his movement out the corner of her eye.  “All done freak? Christ you look pale, isn’t you lovely doctor fuck-toy taking good enough care of you?” Donovan said through a smirk. Sherlock rolled his eyes but turned himself fractionally to stand in front of her view of John while his partner let out a barely muffled growl at her comment. He really didn’t have the time for this, therefore he cut off Lestrade’s inevitable dressing down of her which could no doubt go on for far too long.  

“Really Lestrade this is all rather boring, you dangle a ‘9’ in front of me when in fact it is nothing more than a ‘4’. Check the landlord’s flat, you’ll no doubt find the 2 months rent that she owed him stashed in some obvious place, probably a mattress but I’ll take into account spontaneity and allow you to be surprised. There’s an eviction notice on her desk along with a letter from a care home in the North of the city whose expenses are quite costly. No doubt she was using the meagre wage she earns to pay for the care that must be being given to her… mother looking at her photos and items scattered around her bookcase which clearly take precedence over her own achievements and knickknacks. Therefore she neglected to pay her own rent which was not taken kindly to by the landlord. Obviously you should go and arrest him now Sally, Oh and check his shoes. Now if that is everything we really must be going as John and I are quite busy.” 

He finished in a breath and ignoring Sally’s huff, Lestrade’s sigh and John’s soft noise of awe that he makes whenever Sherlock makes a deduction, he took a step, swayed a little and then world went black.


	2. The Floor.

John was always impressed when Sherlock went off on a long spiel of deductions and this one was no less impressive; but he could tell Sherlock was struggling. Just as he was finishing up his speech John observed the slight hunch of his shoulders and the almost imperceptible tremor in his hands. 

John pushed off the wall ready to follow his partner down the stairs and into the cool breeze of the streets of London. He was a few steps ahead when an absolutely astounding thing happened; Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective and John’s lover, took a step to leave and drifted away into a dead faint.

“Shit! Sherlock? Sherlock!” He darted toward the crumpling figure and lowered the lanky body down onto the floor, checking his pulse. The usually steady thump-thump-thump under his fingers was racing and his skin was burning. Lestrade and Donovan were stood stock-still, they stared as the doctor tried to wake the cold distant detective with whispered words and soft touches but to no avail. 

“For God's sake Greg! Don't just stand there! Get an ambulance now!.” He glared at the two officers until Lestrade was shocked out of his stupor and fumbled with his phone.   

“Come on, Sher? Sweetheart open your eyes. Come on, just for me, yeah?” John continued to whisper to Sherlock sprawled in his lap until finally he stirred.  

“Hmm … mmgh, John? J..hn, I … I need … J-“ The slurred mumbling while concerning, reassured John that a hospital trip shouldn’t be necessary. He’s dealt with a disgruntled Sherlock in A&E and it is not something he would wish to repeat. He would much rather care for him at home.

“Yes, love I’m here. We’re going to get you home alright?” He shot a look at Donovan who immediately got the message that it would be in her best interest to acquire a squad car to get them home.   

“Right, Sherlock? What we’re going to now okay? Is; we’re going to lay here for a minute and then we’re going to get up and get a lift home and I’ll put you to bed yeah?” He needed to get Sherlock tucked up into bed where he could ply him full of tea and paracetamol and wait the worst of this illness out. 

“John? Hmm. W-Why am … Why am I on the floor?” It was clear Sherlock was disorientated and John was about to answer when realisation struck his glassy eyes.  

“No, no no no no John, stay away please, Don’t look! Don’t look! Please just go!” He was filled with panic! John will know now and although he knows that John is not an idiot he will now know the extent of Sherlock’s fever. He now has no chance of suffering in silence and solitude like he had planned for their return to Baker Street.  

John was confused. He had never really seen Sherlock sick before. A few months after they’d met, the man had started sniffling and before John could recommend a check-up he had swept out of the flat and didn’t return for 3 days. His guess was that Sherlock, when sick, preferred to lick his wounds alone which was perfectly fine, but now he began to worry that something else was going on.  

“Sherlock, Sher stop, alright? You’re fine, just a bit of a fever, nothing’s going to hurt you. You’re fine, It’s all fine!” John was quick to reassure his boyfriend.

  “Yes, yes a fever! That’s why you need to leave! You can’t see me like that, you can’t! Not you John… lovely John… my J-John.” He was fading fast, he could feel himself drifting again he needed to tell John something, he was sure of it. However, the more he tried to think of what he needed to say the less it seemed to matter. He was in John’s arms, he was safe with John, John will know what to do. John.

John gazed down at his now unconscious boyfriend at a loss for words. He knew Sherlock could be a bit of a drama queen when he wanted to be, but this was to the extreme. He wondered if a visit from Mycroft would reveal any answers. He took out his phone. Before he even had a chance to dial, Mycroft’s Caller ID popped up, he hurriedly clicked ‘accept’.  

“Mycroft, Thank God! It’s Sherlock he’s sick. Just a cold I think, well, I hope just a cold but he’s let it get bad enough that he collapsed from the fever.” John babbled down the phone. He wasn’t quite sure why he was so panicked. He was usually calm and collected in these situations. But it would seem that Sherlock has a knack for throwing him out of his ‘medical professional’ persona and straight into ‘worried boyfriend’.

“Yes, Dr Watson, I am aware of the ongoing situation. Do you really believe that I would let my dear baby brother run around unchecked? You will find a car parked outside that will take you back to Baker Street. You will find the necessary supplies have been left in your kitchen to deal with this ‘episode’. Good luck and … do look after him, I worry constantly.” With a click Mycroft was gone before John could stumble through another sentence.

‘Well, lets get sorted then eh?’ he thought to himself as he eased Sherlock back down flat onto the floor. 

He leaned through the door and shouted down the stairs. 

“Greg! Forget the ambulance, come and give me a hand, the lanky git’s got too much limb for me to carry him down the stairs”. 

He went back to Sherlock and shook him into a half-conscious state. Ignoring his incessant mumblings of ‘No’ ‘He can’t see’ and ‘John’ John hauled the detective into a sitting position as Lestrade hurried up the stairs to their side. With one arm over each of their shoulders they set about getting him downstairs and into the car that awaited them.


	3. The Flat.

Once safely ensconced in 221b, John took a moment to breathe. He set about making them tea, he knew he had to get fluids into Sherlock. It was an ordeal to manhandle him up the stairs, past Mrs Hudson and into his bed but he managed it. Sherlock had obviously been sick for quite some time and while he was aware of his cold and distant nature, he couldn’t help feel a little bit hurt by the fact that his boyfriend hadn’t confided in him. 

A whimper of ‘John’ from the bedroom startled him out of his thoughts. He collected the two steaming mugs and headed to their bedroom. He was greeted with a truly pitiful sight. Sherlock was curled up on his side in the middle of the bed with a sheen of sweat covering his face and his pale toes peeking out from the cocoon of blankets he was shrouded in. 

“I’m here love, look I’ve brought tea! And I expect you to drink the whole thing Sherlock. I will not be responsible for you being dehydrated as well as sick do you hear me?” John was graced with a grunt in response from his lump of blankets before his head disappeared.

The doctor turned to put the tea on the bedside table and brushed against frosty toes. John winced in sympathy and went to fetch some heavy-duty army socks he’d kept a hold of for situations just like these. 

  “Aww, sweetheart your toes are freezing come on let me put these warm socks on yeah?” He fought valiantly with the wrappings held in a death grip before he seized the offending toes and shoved the socks on them. 

Sherlock whined and pulled his head out from his cocoon to glare at his boyfriend. 

“Why don’t you just leave John! Let me be! I am in no mood to be your entertainment for the evening so if you are quite finished, get out!” John was startled at the snarl that erupted from his partner, while normally that stare could render the very best to tears, Sherlock just looked like a sad little puppy who needed cuddles.

“Right, I will have none of that attitude mister! I get that you're sick and that you don’t want me to fuss but suck it up, that is exactly what I’m going to do. You matter too much to me love, to let you sit in here all alone.” John sat next to him and put his arms around him. 

After many minutes of undignified grunting and whining from the consulting detective, he gave up and snuggled into his doctors warm jumper-clad arms. John kissed the nest of dark curls on his loves head and snuggled them both down into the warmth of the bed where they both drifted off.


	4. The Rooftop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter does contain some peril and a lot of angst and danger but it will all work out i promise ;). The italics are what’s going on in Sherlock’s head in his dream\hallucination state and the normal font is both the observation of his movements and will contain John’s movements and speech and what-not.

_John was calling for him… screaming for him._

_“Sherlock! Help me! He’s got me, Oh God, Sherlock!”_

_He was running. Who had John? He had no idea but when he got hold of whoever it was not even Mycroft will be able to find them! He ran towards the voice of his love searching every room, every corridor until he reached a door. An emergency exit._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sherlock rose with a gasp. _Someone had John and he couldn’t do anything to stop it!_ He bounced up and ran as fast as he could. _He had to save John. He must save John!_ At the back of Sherlock’s mind he realised something wasn’t quite right however his priority was John. He nearly tripped over the clothes left on the bedroom floor and continued to search. He ran through the kitchen into the living room. 

“John! John where are you?!” He scanned the room desperately searching for any sign of John until he was hit with a breeze from the open window leading onto the fire escape. He climbed through and raced up onto the small roof terrace of Baker Street. _John must be through here._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_He barrelled on through the door blindly calling for John. He stopped dead in his tracks, the sudden breeze on his face alerting him that he was outside. This was of little consequence as before him was a sight that damn-near stopped his heart._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John was jostled out of his peaceful slumber by shouting and a swift movement of something jumping from the bed. He figured Sherlock had come to the delightful throwing up section of his illness. It took him a minute to clear his head and rushed to the bathroom hoping to tend to Sherlock, clean him up and get to bed. He stopped however in front of the open bathroom door to find it empty. His ear the caught the slight sound of the scuff of his arm socks running on the floor. He quickly darted into the living room to just see the fever addled Holmes unsteadily climb through the window and onto the fire escape. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_“Hello Gorgeous! How are you? Did you miss me Sherly? Because Daddy certainly missed you! I wasn’t sure if you’d show so I needed some reassurance that your attendance would be guaranteed.”_

_Stood in front of him was the most abhorrent human being Sherlock has ever had the displeasure of dealing with and in front of him, on his knees was his precious John. His face was bruised and battered and his arms were tied behind his back. His stomach dropped when the Irish lilt hit his ears once more._

_“Y’see Sherly, we’re not done! I know you thought that you’d beaten me but here I am! You can’t beat me Sherlock, you will never beat me.”_

_“John…” Sherlock whimpered, his eyes never left his boyfriends face which was contorted with terror. He felt uselessly stuck to the floor in his fear. Where was the fearless detective who always had a witty retort for an idiot?_

_“Therefore I suggest we play a final game … well… a final final game. Y’know I am aware of what you did the last time we met on a rooftop and I do not like it one bit! I died so why didn’t you?! It’s very rude to cheat at games y’know, so now I’m going to watch you do it. If I’m satisfied with the results I shall let your pet go if not I’ll drop him! Nine times out of Ten he’ll scamper off back to Baker Street and sit in a shrine again until he tops himself but that’s life. Now step up if you would.”_

_“Sherlock! What are you doing! No no no get away from there! You can’t love, what are you doing! STOP!” John’s eyes were as wide as saucers and all his screaming had reopened the slightly scabbed over cut on his lip._

_Moriarty held his arm aside motioning for Sherlock to join him on the ledge where John was now dangled. Sherlock frowned, how did John go from being on his knees to being held over the ledge?_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John followed him up the fire escape and was immediately thrown into a scene extremely reminiscent of a dark day three years ago. Sherlock stood with his back to John, in his thin plaid pyjamas and John’s socks in the middle of the roof staring off into the distance fiercely with an unfathomable expression on his face. 

“John…”, he heard Sherlock whimper. The man was shaking from fear as well as the fever coursing through his veins.  Sherlock was obviously hallucinating and John had no idea how to get him off the roof. As long as he stayed where he was everything would be fine. John’s heart was beating out of his chest; his mind racing. 

“Sherlock! What are you doing! No no no get away from there! You can’t love, what are you doing! STOP!” he shouted, trying to get his attention before the worst could happen.

John was debating the best way to get them back inside when Sherlock took three strides across the roof over to the ledge where he stopped abruptly, turned to look at something off to his left and extended his arm. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_His mind was moving so slowly, He didn’t know what was going on but he stayed solely focussed on John. ‘He is more important’ he thought._

 _“John, my love, I have to keep you safe. I have to do this so that you can carry on. You’ll live, you’ll move on and live a happy life. Oh and what a life it will be, Darling you will be so spectacular,” he caressed John’s cheek wiping away the coagulated blood and tears._

_John shook his head and looked at him through tear-filled eyes and started to plead._

_“No no what are you talking about Sherlock? You can’t! My heart can’t take it, love. We’re all safe now I promise just please come down, I need you. Sher? Are you listening? There’s no danger sweetheart, you made sure of that. Please don’t do this to me again! You fought so hard and then you came back, don’t you remember? You fell into my arms and I promised to keep you safe because you were strong for so long darling and now it’s my turn. It’s my turn to fight to keep you safe. I need you safe.”_

_With that declaration of undying love John gave Sherlock a teary smile and tipped himself back and off of the ledge._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John watched transfixed as Sherlock seemed to be stroking something in front of him. John had no idea what he was seeing but with the look at the tender expression on his face, it must be something precious to the detective. He moved closer as Sherlock spoke. 

“John, my love, I have to keep you safe. I have to do this so that you can carry on. You’ll live, you’ll move on and live a happy life. Oh and what a life it will be, Darling you will be so spectacular.”

John’s eyes widened. Whatever terror this fever had induced was obviously very real to Sherlock at this moment. John paled, he was really going to do this, Sherlock was going to jump, for him, again. 

“No no what are you talking about Sherlock? You can’t! My heart can’t take it love. We’re all safe now I promise just please come down, I need you. Sher? Are you listening? There’s no danger sweetheart, you made sure of that. Please don’t do this to me again! You fought so hard and then you came back, don’t you remember? You fell into my arms and I promised to keep you safe because you were strong for so long darling and now it’s my turn. It’s my turn to fight to keep you safe. I need you safe.” He took a step towards him. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 _“NO! JOHN! GOD NO!” Sherlock couldn’t believe what had just happened. John jumped! He’d just jumped and left Sherlock! He was ready, he was going to die for John but John… Marvellous, Beautiful, Shining John had protected him once again and now he was alone. He couldn’t bear it, he needed John just as John needed him! It only took him a second to decide._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John watched as Sherlock’s head whipped round and he let out the most heart breaking cry of anguish followed by a scream. 

“NO! JOHN! GOD NO!” Sherlocks looked like his whole reason for living was ripped away and John knew immediately what was to follow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 _“I love you.” He breathed hoping the universe would somehow deliver his final words to his John. He straightened up took a deep breath and stepped up and off into the rush of night sky._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What happened next was instinct. John saw Sherlock straighten, lift his leg as if to take a great leap and whisper a declaration of love. This was it. John moved faster than he ever moved before. He dove, reached for Sherlock and threw them both back so that they were sprawled on this cold roof floor. Sherlock was sobbing his heart out, still trapped in the hell that contorted his mind, the sound of his sobs splintered John’s soul one by one. 

John brought Sherlock to him and wrapped him in his arms as tightly as he could. He cradled the back of Sherlocks head and buried his face in his curls. He then began to whisper to the precious bundle in his arms.

“Shh, shh sweetheart, I’ve got you, you’re going to be fine Sherlock, I promise! I’ve got you love, I’ve got you.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So There it is. Was it terrible? Were the changes in perspectives confusing? I didn't realise how difficult writing actually is. Thank you so much for reading!!!! :D Could you possibly be even more fabulous and leave feedback or any kind? I'm not fussy ;) x

**Author's Note:**

> Any Thoughts? :)


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